


Connect the Dots

by MirrorMystic



Category: Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Birthday Party, F/F, Fluff, Gals being pals, Post-Canon, Pre-Poly, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 22:46:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16168379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirrorMystic/pseuds/MirrorMystic
Summary: “Alright, I’ll bite,” Eirika said, blowing her bangs out of her eyes with a huff, as Ephraim’s grin only grew more and more insufferable. “What’s so funny?”“As royalty, we shouldn’t listen to gossip,” Ephraim shrugged, smiling. “But there’s a rumor going around, Eirika. The people think you’re in love.”“What?!” Eirika all-but-screeched, her traitorous cheeks turning damningly pink. “Withwho?!”





	Connect the Dots

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my drafts for far, far too long-- over three months! But it's finally here, and I couldn't be prouder to present it. Welcome to "Eirika, you useless lesbian, you have two hands". I hope you all enjoy the read! ^^

~*~  
  
Queen Eirika of Renais had never cared for parties.  
  
That may come as a surprise. Queen Eirika had garnered a reputation, after all, of favoring the word over the sword (though make no mistake, her sword arm is still quite capable). So one might think that Eirika, born diplomat, would enjoy greeting dignitaries from all across Magvel, looking resplendent by the light of chandeliers, while her brother, Ephraim, would be the one tugging at his overly-starched collar, his hands yearning for a lance.  
  
Instead, it was Ephraim who was wining and dining and dazzling the room, while Eirika lurked in the wings with a glass of wine, wishing she were back in her bedchambers curled up with a good book.  
  
“You look terrible,” Ephraim said lightly, as he sidled up to the column Eirika was half-hiding behind.  
  
“ _Thank you_ , Ephraim,” Eirika rolled her eyes. “That’s what ladies _love_ to hear.”  
  
“Well, let me know if you see any, would you?” Ephraim grinned. Eirika just shook her head and gave him a shove.  
  
“Look at all this,” Eirika said, gesturing to Castle Renais’ lavish ballroom, gleaming and gilded with candlelight, and positively swimming with guests. “From the look of this crowd, you would think we had saved Magvel from another Demon King. This all seems a bit much for our twenty-fifth nameday.”  
  
“Oh, don’t be so stiff,” Ephraim chided. “It’s just a nice, quiet, private ball…”  
  
“‘Quiet’?” Eirika huffed, exasperated. “Ephraim, you practically invited all of Magvel!”  
  
“Only the people who matter!” Ephraim protested. He nodded up to the front of the hall. “Look, speaking of which…”  
  
At the head of the banquet hall, a uniformed herald struck his cane against the floor. All eyes in the room turned at the sound, greeting the newest arrivals.  
  
“The Royal Siblings of Frelia,” the herald announced. “Prince Innes, and Princess Tana.”  
  
Innes’ hawklike stare caught Ephraim’s across the room, and the Frelian duo made a beeline through the crowd. Innes marched briskly through the throng of guests with a single-minded determination, ignoring all the greetings that came his way. Tana, for her part, tried her best to be more gracious than her brother-- not a high bar, admittedly-- but her courtesy evaporated when she finally caught Eirika’s eyes. Tana burst through the crowd, squealing like a child, only catching herself at the last moment.  
  
“Your Majesty,” Tana said, dipping into a curtsy.  
  
“Your Highness,” Eirika returned, quietly embarrassed at having to curtsy with a wine glass in her hand. But when Tana looked up, she met Eirika’s eyes with so much light and warmth that something so trivial as etiquette just didn't matter anymore.  
  
“Innes,” Ephraim began, with rather less care.  
  
Eirika glanced between them, inwardly rolling her eyes at the onset of yet another round of male posturing. Ephraim had dressed for the occasion in a bold green swallowtail coat etched in gold. Innes was similarly attired, save his coat was a paler green, etched with silver and accented with a dove-gray cravat. Eirika had to admit that he did look sharp-- the way a knife is sharp, and with a smile no less dangerous.  
  
“Ephraim,” Innes said curtly. “You are wearing my colors.”  
  
“I beg your pardon, Innes,” Ephraim said warily, “but these are my father’s colors.”  
  
“Well, clearly, one of you will have to change!” Tana chirped.  
  
Eirika barked out a laugh, and to her relief, Ephraim and Innes joined her, clasping wrists. Innes even managed a smile-- a real one, not his usual one that looked more like a threat.  
  
“You two look well,” Innes said, dipping his head towards Eirika. “I’m happy to see your brother following my lead when it comes to fashion.”  
  
“And I’ll be happy to take the lead when it comes to everything else,” Ephraim grinned.  
  
“I’ll need you to lead me to some wine if you’re going to be talking like that,” Innes chuckled.  
  
“That, I can do,” Ephraim said, ushering Innes away. He glanced back towards the girls.  
  
“Tana. Eirika. I’ll leave you to it,” Ephraim nodded, seeing them off with a wink.  
  
Eirika felt a flicker of red across her face. A wink! Just what did he mean by that?  
  
“Oh, Eirika…!” Tana cooed. “You look fantastic!”  
  
Tana’s praise certainly wasn’t helping the warmth in Eirika’s cheeks. Her blush went perfectly well with her dress-- an elegant, long-sleeved gown in red and gold.  
  
“Thank you, Tana,” Eirika smiled. “Of course, you look…”  
  
Eirika took in Tana’s own ensemble, a bold, sleeveless, off-the shoulder dress in a deep plum and a deeper neckline, with a ruffled skirt that more than did justice to Tana’s finely toned legs.  
  
Eirika felt an age-old warmth blooming in her chest.  
  
“...amazing,” she breathed.  
  
Tana beamed. She dove into Eirika’s arms, pulling her into an embrace that sent Eirika’s wine sloshing precariously in its glass.  
  
It was in moments like these that Eirika was reminded that Tana, once her exact equal in height, had since grown much taller. In fact, there were two rather large, rather soft reminders currently pressing into Eirika’s cheeks.  
  
Tana cradled Eirika to her chest, smoothing Eirika’s hair against her scalp. She parted, reluctantly, her hands on Eirika’s shoulders, gazing at Eirika with such intense, sincere fondness that Eirika fought to snatch her gaze away.  
  
“Oh, Eirika…” Tana cooed. “It’s always so good to see you.”  
  
“...you, as well…” Eirika managed. Her throat was suddenly very dry. She drained her wine glass in a single, long swallow.  
  
“Is something wrong, Eirika?” Tana asked, with a quizzical tilt of her head. “You look flushed.”  
  
“Oh, no, it’s just…” Eirika faltered.  
  
Damn her. Damn her dress, her smile, and damn Ephraim for leaving them alone together with a wink. A wink! She’d make him pay for that later.  
  
The herald’s cane against the tile floor struck Eirika from her flustered thoughts and mercifully pulled Tana’s adoring gaze towards the head of the hall. Tana gasped, a hand over her mouth.  
  
“Oh, wow…” she breathed.  
  
“The Exalted Lady L’arachel of Rausten, and escort,” the herald announced.  
  
A hush seemed to fall over the room. L’arachel stepped inside, a dazzling vision in white and gold. Veins of gold thread ran through floral white embroidery, her underskirts in ruffled leaf-green, giving her an overall impression of a camellia in bloom.  
  
She looked, in a word, divine.  
  
“Eirika!” L’arachel cried out with typical bombast, the crowd parting before her else they risk getting bowled over in L’arachel’s haste. She darted through the crowd, twirling in place with a flourish before dipping into a curtsy and snatching Eirika’s hand in her own.  
  
“Dearest Eirika, it’s been _far_ too long!” L’arachel cried, practically bouncing on her heels. Tana giggled beside them, and L’arachel pounced on her like a cat, snatching up her hand with a squeeze. “And Princess Tana! It’s always a pleasure to see you. I can’t miss you in _this_ crowd, tall as you are-- certainly not as much as I’ve missed my darling Eirika!”  
  
Tana laughed, delighted. “Yes, I know well the feeling…”  
  
Eirika touched her cheek, and was astonished to discover she hadn’t burst into flames. She wrenched her gaze away from her two closest friends in all of Magvel, desperate for some distraction from how damned _gorgeous_ they were tonight.  
  
L’arachel belatedly became aware of Eirika’s squirming, and caught herself, remiss.  
  
“Oh! How very rude of me,” she said, ushering her escort forward. “You two remember Dozla, don’t you?”  
  
‘Memorable’ was an apt descriptor for _anyone_ who kept L’arachel’s company, and Dozla was no exception. The jolly old berserker was looking positively dashing, in a dark swallowtail, russet surcoat, and a cord necktie. His beard was even braided for the occasion.  
  
“Ser Dozla,” Eirika said, impressed. “Look at you.”  
  
“Look at me? Look at you, lassie!” Dozla laughed, hearty. He clapped a hand on Eirika’s back so hard that she nearly dropped her wine glass. “Twenty-five years old and not getting any taller, I see.”  
  
“We can’t all cut so striking a figure as you, ser,” Eirika said graciously.  
  
“You’re still plenty tall for me!” L’arachel chimed in.  
  
She took Eirika’s hand in both of hers, and squeezed. Then she pulled her forward and dove into her arms.  
  
For all that she was used to seeing L’arachel on horseback, it was easy for Eirika to forget just how small and petite the Queen of Light truly was. Of course, that just meant she fit perfectly into Eirika’s embrace, her head tucked under Eirika’s chin, Eirika’s arms wrapped tight around her slim frame. L’arachel sighed blissfully into Eirika’s throat and sent a shiver up her spine.  
  
“A blessing on your nameday, dearest Eirika,” L’arachel purred. She pulled back, taking Eirika by the shoulders and gazing at her with those dazzling amber eyes. “And to many more.”  
  
L’arachel’s smile was downright blinding. Eirika squirmed, glancing away-- only to catch Tana looking on, filled to bursting with earnest adoration.  
  
Really, it was a wonder Eirika hadn’t burst into flames.  
  
Finally, the herald rapped their cane against the ground, and Eirika sighed in relief as L’arachel looked away. Another duo had appeared at the head of the banquet hall-- a waif of a man in dark robes, looking almost frail in the brilliant light, escorted by a venerable knight in oxblood armor, with a sword on his hip that was for far more than mere ceremony.  
  
“The Regents of Grado,” the herald announced. “Archsage Knoll, and the Lord General Duessel Obsidian.”  
  
“Oh!” L’arachel tittered. “It sounds like somebody got a promotion.”  
  
“We should probably let Queen Eirika resume her rounds,” Tana said. She gently took L’arachel’s hand. L’arachel pouted, before reluctantly letting Tana pull her out of Eirika’s arms.  
  
“Ah, the burdens of royalty,” L’arachel cooed. “I suppose we ought to go say a few hellos of our own. Your Highness?”  
  
L’arachel offered her arm. Tana took it with a smile.  
  
“My Lady Exalt,” Tana giggled. “Shall we?”  
  
They gave Eirika a parting wave before slipping away into the crowd, L’arachel’s unmistakable voice demanding the hottest gossip from the Frelian court, Tana’s hips swaying with every tittering laugh. Eirika watched them go, a fire in her veins, absently pressing the cool rim of her glass against her scalding cheeks.  
  
Across the ballroom, the delegation from Grado was waiting to greet her.  
  
But first, she was going to need more wine.  
  
~*~  
  
A few moments later, Eirika was picking her way through the crowd with a pair of wine glasses when Ephraim appeared and took her by the arm.  
  
“Ah, thank you, Eirika,” Ephraim said, plucking the fuller glass from Eirika’s fingers. “That’s just what I need.”

“Excuse me, these are both mine,” Eirika huffed.  
  
Ephraim paused, and studied her, the glass halfway to his lips. “...What’s wrong?”  
  
Eirika snatched the glass back out of Ephraim’s grasp, taking a long draw from its twin. “It’s nothing. Have you said hi to Lord Duessel and Sage Knoll yet?”  
  
“No, I was just on my way,” Ephraim said.  
  
“Good. I’ll come with you. I need a bit of distraction.”  
  
“From what? Anyway, Eirika, I imagine L’arachel already saw you--”  
  
“Yes, yes, I was first on her list,” Eirika huffed, forcing the red from her cheeks with another sip from her glass. “Please don’t talk to me about L’arachel, Ephraim. Or Tana, for that matter-- I don’t know if I can handle either of them right now.”  
  
“‘Handle them’? Why are you acting so strange?” Ephraim wondered. “...Are you sure I can’t have any wine?”  
  
Eirika glanced down at the second glass she was holding, looked Ephraim dead in the eyes, and drained half the glass in one swallow. She held it out to him, backwash and all.  
  
Ephraim made a face.  
  
“...Keep it,” he said.  
  
The crowd parted to let the twins through, only for Duessel to give Eirika and Ephraim two hearty claps on the back that nearly bowled them both over.  
  
“Lord General,” Eirika said, her wine sloshing in her paired glasses. “Thank you for coming.”  
  
“Thank you for remembering to invite an old man like me,” Duessel mused, shaking his head. “If only your father could see you now. Twenty-five years old, and you still haven’t gotten any taller.”  
  
“I think we’ve already done all our growing,” Ephraim chuckled.  
  
“Now, I didn’t say that,” Duessel said sagely. “There’s always more to learn. The Restoration has been proceeding apace-- the time will come when we’re no longer restoring what was lost, but creating something entirely new. Your hands will carry Renais into the future.”  
  
A somber quiet settled between them. Duessel blew out a sigh, squeezing Ephraim’s shoulder with a gloved hand.  
  
“...But enough dour talk,” Duessel grinned. “Today is for you. Let’s enjoy it, shall we? And you, boy-- I should hope you haven’t been shirking your training. Monsters yet plague our lands. There are rumors that Lady L’arachel is planning on leading a crusade against them, and that she wants _you_ by her side…”  
  
Duessel ushered Ephraim away, chatting all the while. Ephraim gave Eirika an odd look over his shoulder-- one that was, perhaps, apologetic. Eirika watched him go, frowning.  
  
Eirika abruptly remembered that Knoll was still there beside her. For his part, he didn’t seem offended-- Knoll was a man used to walking in shadows, in more ways than one.  
  
“Your Majesty,” Knoll said, clasping a hand over his heart and dipping his head in a bow. “Darkness keep you on your special day.”  
  
“Thank you, Sage Knoll,” Eirika said, then caught herself. “Ah, forgive me. Archsage, now. Congratulations on your appointment-- those who hold that esteemed title are few and far between.”  
  
“It’s a rather dramatic title for someone who primarily studies crop yields,” Knoll admitted, a slight smile passing across his gaunt, gloomy face. He studied Eirika for a moment, his dark eyes glinting beneath the golden chandeliers.  
  
“...Something’s bothering you,” Knoll said, and it wasn’t a question. Eirika felt a pang in her chest. When he looked at her like that, his eyes furrowed with concern, he looked so much like…  
  
“Yes,” Eirika blurted out, and wasn’t entirely sure why. “Yes, there is. I thank you for your concern. But I assure you, it’s nothing I cannot handle…”  
  
Eirika heard L’arachel’s unmistakable voice across the room, followed by the bright peal of Tana’s laughter. She caught a glimpse of them both over Knoll’s shoulder. L’arachel saw her first, and squeezed Tana’s arm. Tana whirled around, caught Eirika’s eyes, and gave her a wave, practically bouncing on her heels.  
  
Fire flashed across Eirika’s cheeks. She downed her glasses of wine, one after the other, before belatedly realizing that Knoll was right there to witness her discomfort.  
  
“...Would you excuse me for just _one_ moment…?” Eirika asked, sheepish.  
  
“But of course,” Knoll blinked. “Are you unwell, my lady?”  
  
“No, I’m quite well. I’m the wellest I’ve ever been. Could you hold these?”  
  
She shoved her empty wine glasses into Knoll’s bewildered hands before he could say no. Eirika turned on her heel and fled down the hall, her cheeks burning.  
  
“Perhaps another time?” Knoll meekly called after her, his voice drowned out by the chattering crowd.  
  
~*~  
  
Eirika escaped to another wing of the banquet hall, giving polite nods to all those who looked her way. She reached up and massaged her temples, feeling the onset of a headache. She was going to regret all this wine in the morning, that was for certain. She should probably try to eat something.  
  
“Hungry?” Ephraim appeared beside her as if reading her mind. He had a pair of chicken skewers in his hand, and a strange smirk on his face.  
  
“Yes, thank you,” Eirika said warily. She took a skewer and took a bite of grilled chicken slathered in pesto, nodding in mild approval. Not the finest hors d'oeuvres she’s ever had in this castle, but it was fine enough to fight a hangover.  
  
“You know, Tana and L’arachel have been looking for you,” Ephraim said. “It’s almost as if you’ve been avoiding them.”  
  
“Is it?” Eirika squeaked, and bit back the urge to take a sip of wine. She cleared her throat. “A-Anyway. You look rather amused with yourself. I didn’t know General Duessel made for such lively company.”  
  
“You’d be surprised,” Ephraim shrugged. That smug grin never left his face. “That’s not why, though.”  
  
Ephraim attempted to nonchalantly take a bite of chicken while still maintaining his knowing smile. Eirika stared at him, tapping her foot.  
  
“Alright, I’ll bite,” Eirika said, blowing her bangs out of her eyes with a huff, as Ephraim’s grin only grew more and more insufferable. “What’s so funny?”  
  
“As royalty, we shouldn’t listen to gossip,” Ephraim shrugged, smiling. “But there’s a rumor going around, Eirika. The people think you’re in love.”  
  
“What?!” Eirika all-but-screeched, her traitorous cheeks turning damningly pink. “With _who_ ?!”  
  
“That’s the _fun_ part!” Ephraim crowed. “Nobody knows! The rumor wasn’t very specific, you see. The ballroom is rife with speculation.”  
  
Ephraim reached into the gaggle behind him and physically dragged a scowling Innes into the conversation. Innes crossed his arms with a huff, as Ephraim clapped his hands down on his shoulders.  
  
“If you’re curious,” Ephraim smiled, “the popular theory seems to be that you’re courting Innes.”  
  
Innes met Eirika’s eyes, raising a dubious eyebrow. They both barked out a laugh.  
  
“That’s ridiculous,” Eirika said. “Innes, am I courting you? Are we courting?”  
  
“I think I would have noticed,” Innes said dryly.  
  
“You’ve got the whole banquet wondering who has your heart,” Ephraim said.  
  
“Ugh!” Eirika threw her hands up. “I’ll thank Magvel to keep its prying eyes out of my love life! Why must I be subjected to this? Why isn’t anyone wondering who _you_ would like to wed?”  
  
“I half-expect to be the leading theory yet again,” Innes mused.  
  
“You are, _unfortunately_ ,” Ephraim scoffed. “There was also this one lout, too deep in his cups, who said _you_ were the most important woman in my life, Eirika.”  
  
Eirika crinkled her nose. “And?”  
  
“I, uh. I may have punched him.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
“He was correct, strictly speaking,” Ephraim squirmed. “But his phrasing was… suspect.”  
  
“I have such a _charming_ suitor,” Innes drawled.  
  
Eirika blew out an exasperated sigh, sinking into a chair. Innes plucked a pair of wine glasses from a passing server’s tray, and silently offered one to Eirika. Eirika glowered up at him, before taking the offered glass and downing half of it in another swallow she immediately regretted.  
  
“...Honestly…” Eirika grumbled. “Who could have started such a _preposterous_ rumor?”  
  
~*~  
  
“Look at her!” L’arachel gasped, clutching her heart. “Drowning her sorrows! That is the face of a woman helplessly in love!”  
  
“How awful…” Tana murmured, her brows knit with concern. She laid a hand on L’arachel’s shoulder and squeezed. “I can’t bear to see Eirika so sullen. We have to do something.”  
  
“Quite right,” L’arachel said, reaching up and clasping Tana’s hand on her shoulder. “This is her day, after all! It wouldn’t do for the guest of honor to be clinging to the shadows and who knows how many glasses of wine. But what to do…”  
  
Tana took a deep breath. She swallowed hard.  
  
“Lady L’arachel. I’m sure you know, but Eirika is… very fond of you.”  
  
“Well, I can hardly blame her,” L’arachel preened. Her smile faded, grew somber. “...But yes, I’m aware. She’s quite fond of you, as well. You’ve known her far longer than I.”  
  
“We are Eirika’s closest friends,” Tana said. “It’s up to us.”  
  
“We were there for Eirika when she needed us most,” L’arachel declared. “Now, we must do it again! For our Eirika, no sacrifice is too great!”  
  
“Agreed!” Tana nodded vigorously. “You and me, L’arachel. Together!”  
  
L’arachel stood, taking Tana’s hand in both of hers. Their eyes met, blazing with conviction.  
  
“Together, dear Tana,” L’arachel proclaimed. “We shall help Eirika find her true love!”  
  
~*~  
  
The evening wore on, and the formal reception made way for dancing. The soft, gentle stirrings of the castle musicians, serving as a backdrop for conversation, made way for grand waltzes and up-tempo quicksteps. Couples emerged from the crowds of minor Renais nobles, but everyone’s eyes were on the royal guests-- and just whom they would honor with a dance.  
  
Eirika, for her part, was still self-conscious about downing four glasses of wine in a gay panic, not that she would ever describe her night in those terms. She lingered on the edges of the dance floor, watching couples go past with an expression approaching interest. Really, she was more concerned with fighting her impending hangover, picking at every tray of appetizers that uniformed servers carried her way.  
  
Across the dance floor, Tana had had a similar idea, gleefully sampling everything that went past.  
  
“Mm!” Tana sighed with relish, accepting a spoonful of creamy risotto from a passing server. “Oh, L’ara, you must try this.”  
  
“Do try to focus, dear,” L’arachel tutted, taking the offered spoon regardless. “We’re here-- mm! ...Oh, that _is_ good. Ah, yes-- we’re here for Eirika, don’t forget. Do you see any promising suitors? Surely there’s _someone_ in this crowd of young bucks who’d make a worthy pair with our Eirika.”  
  
“I’m not sure who I would entrust her to…” Tana fretted. “None of these nobles, surely? We’ve scarcely been introduced. It would have to be someone we know has a good heart. Perhaps someone who fought with us during the War of the Stones.”  
  
“But who?” L’arachel urged. “We must find someone. Please, dear. I’m relying on your eyes.”  
  
“Thank you, L’ara, but I’m certain you would have a better eye for fine breeding…”  
  
“Well, certainly, but I’m really quite relying on your eyes. I can’t see over this crowd, myself. I am, ah. Quite short.” A pause, then a giddy squeal. “Oh, Tana, dear, they have scallops!”  
  
Across the dance floor, Eirika was absently sloshing the last of her wine around in her glass. She glanced up, only to see Ephraim emerging from the press of bodies.  
  
“Please don’t ask me to dance, Ephraim,” Eirika said dryly. “What would the people say.”  
  
“Ha ha,” Ephraim drawled. “How are you feeling?”  
  
“It’s a little loud,” Eirika said.  
  
Ephraim shrugged. “It’s a party.”  
  
Eirika nodded, distracted. Ephraim pulled her mostly-empty wine glass out of her hands and replaced it with something wrapped in a napkin.  
  
“Here,” Ephraim said. “At least try the salmon, if you’re not going to dance.”  
  
Eirika unfurled her napkin and popped the little cube of salmon into her mouth. She nodded, making approving noises, before promptly choking when she saw Tana and L’arachel push through the crowd towards her.  
  
“Oh no,” Ephraim said flatly.  
  
“Ephraim, Your Majesty!” L’arachel practically swooned. “Surely I cannot be the first to dance with you tonight. I wouldn’t _dream_ of imposing…”  
  
“Yes, you would,” Eirika muttered.  
  
“Well, Ephraim?” L’arachel batted her eyelashes. “May I have this dance?”  
  
Ephraim shot Eirika a pained glance. Eirika winked. He groaned.  
  
“...It would… be… an honor.”  
  
L’arachel took Ephraim by the hand and pulled him onto the dance floor. Unfortunately, Eirika didn’t have much time to savor getting Ephraim back for that wink he pulled earlier. Tana’s hands came to rest on her shoulders, and she went stiff, warmth rising in her face.  
  
“Are you alright?” Tana asked, so tenderly Eirika could have screamed.  
  
“...It’s… a little loud,” she choked out. “Maybe we could talk, somewhere away from all the music…?”  
  
“Of course, of course,” Tana nodded. She helped ease Eirika up out of her chair, turning away from the dance floor-- before ‘tripping’ and bumping Eirika back with her hips.  
  
“Oops!” Tana cried, unconvincingly.  
  
Eirika stumbled back and caught herself before she could fall-- only to find herself staring into the striking crimson eyes of the Prince of Jehanna.  
  
“Your Majesty,” Joshua said languidly, totally at ease despite the dancers whirling around them. “May I have this dance?”  
  
Joshua bowed low, a hand over his heart. Eirika blinked, before dipping into a curtsy and taking Joshua’s hand.  
  
The glided across the dance floor together, in a spiral of crimson and black, as smoothly and elegantly as the shifting sands of Joshua’s homeland. Something about Joshua’s easygoing demeanor made him seem comfortable in any environment, and a formal gala was no exception. Even his clothes weren’t too different from the simple coat, trousers, and boots he’d worn on the march during the War of the Stones. They were a bit better-tailored, and of finer quality fabric, but that was all. It was much like Joshua himself-- a little older, a little wiser, a little more finely dressed, but still unmistakably, unapologetically him. He was even still wearing his signature hat.  
  
“How are you, Your Highness?” Eirika asked blithely, pirouetting into Joshua’s embrace.  
  
“Oh, you know. Dancing with a Queen,” Joshua replied lightly, placing a chaste hand on Eirika’s hip. “This should make me the envy of a good few people, or so I’ve heard.”  
  
“ _Please_ don’t spread that rumor…” Eirika sighed. “I didn’t hear them announce you, at the reception.”  
  
“I don’t like to make waves,” Joshua shrugged. “Go with the flow, you know.”  
  
“You must get that from your mother,” Eirika smiled. “How is she?”  
  
“Oh, you know…” Joshua’s eyes grew distant, troubled. “...She hasn’t been the same, since the war. I don’t think any of us have been. It might be time to go looking for something new. Something to keep things… exciting.”  
  
“Like a courtship?” Eirika drawled.  
  
“Or a dance,” Joshua winked.  
  
Eirika rolled her eyes. Again, with the winking…  
  
“You didn’t have to ask me, you know,” Eirika murmured, as she spun, brushing her fingertips against Joshua’s as they came back together. “I only stumbled onto the dance floor. I didn’t mean to trouble you.”  
  
“It’s no trouble,” Joshua reassured. “And besides, you know me. I’m a gambler at heart.”  
  
Eirika managed a smile. “Is everything a gamble to you, Joshua?”  
  
“I took a gamble by asking. You took a gamble by saying yes. Either one of us could have come out of this looking like a fool,” Joshua said. “But there’s a certain thrill in that, isn’t there? Not knowing what the future could hold…”  
  
Eirika spun out from Joshua’s embrace. She caught a glimpse of L’arachel and Tana in the crowd, huddled together in a conspiratorial whisper. When she spun back into Joshua’s arms, she was blushing like mad.  
  
Joshua smiled, a little too knowingly. As the song came to a close, he pulled Eirika’s hand to his lips and left a chaste kiss on her knuckles.  
  
Eirika swallowed hard.  
  
“But there’s always a risk, isn’t there?” she asked, somber.  
  
Joshua offered her a charming, languid smile.  
  
“Some gambles are worth the risk,” he said. He clasped a hand over his heart and bowed. “Thank you for the dance, Your Majesty.”  
  
“No,” Eirika murmured thoughtfully, dipping into a curtsy. “Thank you.”  
  
~*~  
  
L’arachel returned from the dance floor, hooking an arm through Tana’s. Tana leaned over to whisper in her ear-- a task easier said than done, as L’arachel barely came up to her chest.  
  
“Are you alright?” Tana whispered.  
  
“Yes, thank you, dear,” L’arachel replied. “A dance with Ephraim is a sacrifice I make gladly. That was a lovely move of your own, bumping Eirika onto the dance floor. You’re quite adept with your hips.”  
  
Tana made a face. “Thank you. I think.”  
  
“Unfortunately, I don’t think Prince Joshua is the one,” L’arachel mused.  
  
Tana shook her head sadly. “He’s a handsome fellow, make no mistake. But looks aren’t everything. Perhaps someone with a bit more… history…”  
  
Tana abruptly realized where this conversation was going. She squirmed in her seat, fretting. L’arachel took her hand in both of hers and squeezed.  
  
“...Tana, dear, our Eirika deserves a _prince_ ,” L’arachel urged. “We have to try. Remember, what would we sacrifice, for Eirika’s sake…?”  
  
“For Eirika? Anything,” Tana muttered, pained. “...Oh, he’s going to _hate_ me for this…”  
  
~*~  
  
“You’re up to something,” Innes said flatly, without looking up from his cards.  
  
“Don’t be silly,” Tana said. “Eirika finds that the dance floor is just a bit too hectic for her tastes, so we thought we might try a stint in the game room. Won’t you deal us in?”  
  
Innes glanced up at the trio with an appraising eye. Eirika squirmed. There was always something mildly unsettling about Innes' piercing glare. He was a master marksman, after all. To be stared at was to be in crosshairs.  
  
Innes shrugged.  
  
“Well, it so happens that three of my previous players have just left,” Innes said.  
  
“‘Victims’, more like,” Ephraim muttered, his chin on his fist. Over his shoulder, Eirika saw a trio of familiar faces-- Tethys and Marisa, their arms crossed, grilling a fuming Gerik over staking their operational budget on a poor poker hand.  
  
“Details,” Innes said, his lip curling into a smirk. “Please, take a seat. Though I warn you, my poker face is impeccable.”  
  
The trio took their places at the card table, Tana beside Innes, L’arachel beside Ephraim, and Eirika, maddeningly, right in between. She still wore the traces of a blush from when Tana and L’arachel had taken her by the hands and all-but-dragged her into the game room. Not even Innes’ hawklike gaze could stifle the red in her cheeks.  
  
If nothing else, Eirika’s, er, predicament with being flanked by her closest ladyfriends would help obscure her reactions to her cards. When it came to poker faces, the table was a mixed bag. Ephraim was never quite able to hide his disappointment in a poor hand. Tana seemed chipper no matter what cards she had. Innes never strayed from a thoughtful, tight-lipped scowl, which Eirika had come to recognize as just his ordinary, everyday expression.  
  
L’arachel, on the other hand…  
  
“Ha!” L’arachel said, throwing her cards down on the table. “My victory is assured!”  
  
Innes’ eyes flicked down, then back up. “...Are you certain about that?”  
  
“Of course!” L’arachel preened, glancing fondly at Tana and Eirika. “What could possibly be better than three queens?”  
  
“Uh, quite a lot, actually,” Ephraim mused.  
  
“So sorry, my Lady Exalt,” Innes said, in a tone that wasn’t very sorry at all. “But I believe I take this round.”  
  
Innes fanned his cards on the table.  
  
“Full house,” Innes smiled, sliding his winnings across the table.  
  
“Oh! Ruffian!” L’arachel fumed. She leaned into Eirika and whispered. “What does that mean?”  
  
“Three of a kind, plus a pair,” Tana explained, when L’arachel pressing into Eirika’s arm had rendered the latter quite incapable of speaking. “Fitting, with this table.”  
  
“True,” L’arachel mused. She sighed, dismayed. “I’m rather poor at this game, I find. I wear my heart on my sleeve! I cannot keep my motives hidden, like this conniving little snake.”  
  
Eirika laughed, despite herself.  
  
“I shall take that as a compliment, Lady Exalt,” Innes smiled, with something approaching warmth, though the pile of silver pieces before him would put anyone in a sanguine mood. “Shall we play another hand?”  
  
“I think I’ve lost _enough_ money for one night…” Ephraim grumbled.  
  
“Deal me in! I’m not finished with you!” L’arachel cried.  
  
“I’m in if L’ara is,” Tana said. “Eirika?”  
  
Eirika smiled, her cheeks warm. “Yes. I’m in.”  
  
“Alright,” Innes said, dealing the cards with deft fingers and practiced grace. “Ante up.”  
  
L’arachel, having learned her lesson the first time, bet a significantly smaller handful of silver. Tana followed suit. Eirika placed her bet, and then glanced down at her cards. Ephraim watched glumly with his chin on his hand, silently picking out which of the coins in the center of the table had come from his coinpurse.  
  
A few moments later, Eirika was sitting on a modest hand-- three queens, of Swords, Wands, and Cups, the same hand L’arachel had drawn previously and subsequently lost with. Eirika was no card reader, but she knew the basics; it was only fitting that she was lacking the Queen of Pentacles, as wealth and good fortune never seemed to last long at Innes’ card table.  
  
“Place your bets,” Innes called.  
  
“I fold,” L’arachel murmured.  
  
“I fold,” Tana echoed with a sigh. “It’s up to you, Eirika.”  
  
Innes dealt Eirika and himself one last card, face down. Eirika peeked at her card--  
  
\--and had to fight the urge to slap it down with a squeal.  
  
The Queen of Pentacles. As if Prince Joshua had kissed her fingers and blessed her with Lady Luck herself.  
  
Across the table, Innes glanced at his final card, his expression never wavering.  
  
“Final bets,” he called, and, to Eirika’s horror, pushed the entirety of his winnings forward into the betting pool.  
  
Eirika swallowed hard. She turned, instinctively, to Tana and L’arachel. L’arachel’s brows were arched with concern, but Tana was firm, resolute.  
  
“He’s bluffing,” she hissed.  
  
“No coaching,” Innes said sharply. “Your bet, Your Majesty?”  
  
Eirika met Tana’s eyes and nodded. A heavy purse of silver hit the table with a bang. Innes sighed.  
  
“...You know, it’s bad form to take the royal siblings for every silver they own, on the night of their own nameday banquet,” Innes said.  
  
“Really? You seemed to have no qualms taking silver from _me_ ,” Ephraim muttered.  
  
“That’s my bet, and I’m sticking with it,” Eirika said. “Your move, Innes.”  
  
Innes’ lips twitched into a smirk. He scraped his chair back and got to his feet, throwing his cards down with a flourish.  
  
“Full house,” Innes proclaimed. “I win again.”  
  
“So sorry, Your Highness,” Eirika said, rising to her feet. She slapped her cards down onto the table, breaking into a broad grin. “Four of a kind.”  
  
Tana screeched in triumph and dove into Eirika’s arms. L’arachel joined them an instant later, the two of them giggling in mad, giddy delight as Eirika swept her winnings across the table.  
  
Innes stared at her, stunned.  
  
“You did it, Eirika!” Tana shrieked, her arms around Eirika’s neck while L’arachel clung to Eirika’s waist. “We have to celebrate! Come here, come here, I’m getting us some more wine!”  
  
“Oh, no, I-- I couldn’t…” Eirika laughed, sheepish, her protests swallowed up by gleeful laughter.  
  
“That was brilliant, Eirika!” L’arachel beamed. “That snake never stood a chance against queens!”  
  
Innes sank slowly into his chair, speechless. Eventually, he chuckled, running a hand through his hair. He turned, meeting Ephraim’s eyes.  
  
“...She plays the game well,” Innes murmured, smiling.  
  
Ephraim blinked, watching Tana and L’arachel take Eirika by the hands and pull her off into the banquet hall in search of a victory drink, trailing jubilant giggling in their wake.  
  
“Eirika!” Ephraim called out, reaching for her in vain. “Could… could I have my silver back…?”  
  
~*~  
  
The night wore on, with dinner, dancing, and conversation by candlelight. As far as Tana and L’arachel could tell, Eirika seemed to be having a good time. But Eirika still had that distant look in her eyes, that strange habit of breaking eye contact, recoiling from even friendly touches as if burned.  
  
The crowd began to thin. Renais’ nobles were returning home, a line of carriages retreating into the night, while the twins’ guests from abroad were retiring to the chambers set aside for them in the castle. Monsters still roamed the countryside, after all, and a journey back across the continent was not one to be undertaken without a hearty breakfast and a proper armed escort.  
  
Eirika sank into a chair, massaging her aching legs. She could see Tana across the hall, speaking with Gerik’s mercenaries. She couldn’t see L’arachel, but she could hear her, her melodious voice ringing with the virtues of monster-slaying. Innes, after spending a good chunk of the evening recouping his gambling losses from a string of hapless nobles, was leaning atop the grand piano in the main ballroom, scoffing at the notion that Ephraim knew how to play. And Ephraim, ever motivated by proving his naysayers wrong, was putting his childhood lessons to good use, filling the night with a gentle, wistful tune.  
  
Eirika raised her arms above her head and stretched, feeling her spine pop. She blew out a weary sigh, draping an arm across the back of her chair--  
  
\--only to realize that she wasn’t alone.  
  
“Ah!” Eirika jumped. “I’m sorry! I didn’t see you there!”  
  
Knoll chuckled, his hands clasped politely in his lap. “It’s no trouble, Your Majesty. If I had a piece of silver for every time I heard that…”  
  
Eirika smiled. “...I apologize, for running off earlier. I think I owe you a chat.”  
  
“You don’t _owe_ me anything,” Knoll said. “Although, now that things have quieted down a bit, I would care for some less… boisterous, company.”  
  
Eirika laughed. “I know well the feeling. Shall we take a walk?”  
  
Knoll stood, and bowed.  
  
“After you, my lady.”  
  
~*~  
  
Tana perked up as Eirika and Knoll passed by. She hurriedly excused herself from her chat with Marisa and Tethys, before scurrying away to find L’arachel.  
  
“The Lagdou Ruins _must_ be purified,” L’arachel was saying, to her rapt audience. “Monsters are flooding our lands, and they’re all emerging from those dark depths. I intend to lead the Knights of Rausten into the ruins to cleanse it once and for all, and I don’t intend to do it alone. I invite any and all of those who fought beside me during the War of the Stones to join me in this endeavor-- people I can trust, people who already know a thing or two about monster-slaying…”  
  
“We’ve mounted armed expeditions into those ruins before,” Duessel said with a grunt. “No matter how many of those demons you put down, there’s always plenty more.”  
  
“There could be a magic in those ruins that allows those beasts to multiply,” Saleh murmured, thoughtfully tapping his chin. “Something that allows them to breed out of control, far faster than any mortal man.”  
  
“I have a theory,” Lute cut in. Artur cleared his throat beside her. “Well, _we_ have a theory, but it’s mostly mine. Perhaps the hordes aren’t multiplying naturally. Perhaps they’re coming from somewhere else. In our quest to chronicle the whole of the world’s knowledge, we uncovered these strange glyphs…”  
  
L’arachel glanced over Lute’s shoulder to see Tana, waving frantically.  
  
“...we would need to join the expedition and study the inscriptions on the tenth sublevel to be certain, but we believe that there may be something beneath the Lagdou Ruins known as an ‘Outrealm Gate’--”  
  
“I-- I beg your pardon,” L’arachel cut in. Lute blinked up at her owlishly. “Could-- Could you excuse me for just one moment?”  
  
L’arachel broke away from her crowd. Tana took her by the arm and pulled her down the hall. L’arachel squeaked at the sight of Eirika taking a stroll with a man. Tana clapped a hand over her mouth and ushered her behind a stone column.  
  
“That-- That’s Archsage Knoll!” L’arachel hissed.  
  
“I know,” Tana whispered.  
  
“We didn’t pick him!”  
  
“I know,” Tana echoed. “She just started talking to him on her own!”  
  
“He’s not a prince,” L’arachel murmured.  
  
“No,” Tana agreed.  
  
“But he is a regent of Grado…” L’arachel furrowed her brow. “...so maybe--”  
  
“Shh!” Tana hissed.  
  
Eirika led Knoll out onto a balcony overlooking the castle courtyard. A line of lantern-light stretched to the horizon-- coaches, ferrying party guests back to their villas. The cool night air rustled Eirika’s hair and cooled her skin, flushed with wine and warm company. Knoll stood beside her, hands clasped in contemplation.  
  
“You are no sorcerer, Your Majesty,” Knoll was saying, “but we are drawn to the shadows for what are, perhaps, similar reasons.”  
  
Eirika chuckled. “What you’re saying is, you don’t much care for crowds.”  
  
Knoll smiled. “No. I do not. Company, certainly. Crowds, less so.”  
  
“I hear that,” Eirika nodded in sympathy. “Being around so many people can be… overwhelming.”  
  
“I’ve a penchant for going unnoticed,” Knoll smiled. “A useful talent, on nights like these. But you’re the hostess, and the guest of honor. You can hardly disappear from your own nameday banquet.”  
  
Just a short distance away, curiosity was overcoming courtesy. L’arachel and Tana were curled up just behind the doorway, peeking, listening in.  
  
“You seemed troubled, earlier,” Knoll said carefully.  
  
“Yes,” Eirika admitted.  
  
“Would you care to talk about it?” Knoll wondered. “I have been told that I am a good listener. Though, I have also been told that that’s only because I don’t have anything to say.”  
  
Eirika laughed, despite herself. Normally, Eirika might have taken umbrage at being read so easily. But Knoll was right; it was easy to confide in him. Especially now, his hooded form haloed in starlight, looking so much like Lyon it made her heart ache. They could’ve been brothers; the resemblance was uncanny.  
  
“There was a rumor, going around tonight,” Eirika began. “That I was in love.”  
  
Knoll nodded. “I take it the rumor wasn’t true?”  
  
“No,” Eirika said quietly. “It wasn’t quite true enough. I _am_ in love, ser Knoll. Painfully, achingly so. With not one, but _two_ of my closest, dearest friends.”  
  
“Who?”  
  
Eirika smiled, rueful. “...I’m sure anyone who’s seen us would be able to guess.”  
  
“I know,” Knoll said. “But I think you need to hear yourself say it.”  
  
Eirika swallowed hard. Nodded. She lifted her head, gazing up at the moon, speaking her confession into the night sky.  
  
“I am in love,” Eirika said, “with Princess Tana and Lady L’arachel.”  
  
Two gasps behind the doorway. Two hands clapped over each other’s mouths. Eirika sighed, lowering her gaze, clutching the balcony rail like the bedsheets after a bad dream.  
  
“Archsage Knoll,” Eirika whispered, “I seek your wisdom, and I beg your counsel. What should I do?”  
  
Knoll exhaled through his nose.  
  
“Long ago, during the War of the Stones,” Knoll murmured, “I had a… discussion, with Sister Natasha, about the differences between her craft, and mine. Light magic is drawn from faith, you see. Dark magic, from knowledge.”  
  
Knoll joined Eirika at the balcony. He gently placed a hand atop hers.  
  
“In my tower at Grado Keep, I have access to vast amounts of knowledge. I turn that knowledge towards great feats of magic-- raising stone foundations, diverting rivers, coaxing life from barren earth. But for all that knowledge, I am afraid I do not have the answer you seek.”  
  
Eirika looked up, and met Knoll’s eyes beneath his hood-- dark and comforting, glinting with stars.  
  
“I can offer you no counsel, my lady,” Knoll said. “Love is an act of faith.”  
  
Eirika took a shuddering breath, and nodded. Knoll gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, before slipping away. L’arachel and Tana watched, wide-eyed, as Knoll walked past them without glancing their way, their hands clapped over each other’s mouths. On the balcony, Eirika blew out a sigh.  
  
“Come out,” she called.  
  
The duo emerged from behind the door, hanging their heads in guilt. Eirika didn’t turn to face them.  
  
“Eirika--” L’arachel began, but stopped herself, biting her lip.  
  
“...Eirika…” Tana said softly. “Is it true, what you said?”  
  
Eirika clutched the balcony rail. A pair of errant tears fell down her cheeks.  
  
“Yes,” she admitted. “I’m in love with you. Both of you. And I have been, for some time.”  
  
“Well, then, I’m a fool!” L’arachel cried, dismayed. “How could I have been so blind? To think, I dragged dear Tana on a whimsical scheme to set you up with a prince, and your heart has already been set on _us_ this whole time? I should have seen the signs-- or perhaps I did, and I misread-- or, perhaps I did, and got distracted, I _am_ prone to that--”  
  
“L’ara,” Tana whispered.  
  
L’arachel caught herself, clearing her throat. Tana exhaled.  
  
“Eirika, why didn’t you say anything?”  
  
“Because…” Eirika raised a hand, searching for the words. She shook her head, gazing up at the stars. “...Because I didn’t want to choose. I could say nothing. I could stand back and watch other suitors seek your hands. And that would hurt, surely. But if I chose one of you, and lost the other forever… that would be too much for me to bear.”  
  
“Eirika, dear,” L’arachel cooed. She glanced up at Tana, curling an arm around hers. “We-- we care for you dearly. Both of us. It’s no secret. And, well, Tana and I, it’s not _quite_ the same, but we _are_ quite fond of each other, as well. We’re not going anywhere, least of all without you.”  
  
Eirika paused. She reached up, drying her tears on her sleeve.  
  
“What are you saying?”  
  
“Eirika, turn around,” Tana urged. “Look at us.”  
  
Eirika turned. Her heart caught in her throat.  
  
“Eirika,” Tana and L’arachel said together, offering their hands, “may we have this dance?”  
  
Eirika didn’t know what to say. So, she picked up her skirts, and dipped into a curtsy.  
  
“...It would be my pleasure,” she gasped, smiling through her tears.  
  
Ephraim’s piano melody drifted out the open balcony and across the castle courtyard. Eirika took their offered hands and pulled Tana and L’arachel close, the three of them twirling together in a dazzling trinity of white, scarlet, and plum. The chandeliers of the banquet hall haloed them from behind, gleaming gold in the firelight.  
  
“I don’t really know the steps for three,” Eirika admitted, sheepish, as she spun L’arachel into her arms, Tana’s arm around her waist.  
  
“Nor do I,” L’arachel said, pouting. “I wouldn’t want to step on any toes, figuratively or otherwise…”  
  
“It’s alright,” Tana urged, with a bright, sweet smile. “We’ll be alright.”  
  
They danced together, under the stars. Eirika closed her eyes and breathed deep, drinking in this moment, more satisfying than any wine. Her heart swelled with affection, every turn, every touch, every passing glance filled with love.  
  
The music swelled. A cool breeze swept across the balcony and urged them ever closer.  
  
Eirika could imagine them, then; Tana, the wind in her hair. L’arachel, the sun on her skin.  
  
They danced together, under an open sky, and Eirika swore it felt like flying.  
  
~*~


End file.
